


if i ain't got nothing, i got nothing to hold me back

by kadaransmuggler



Series: a heartache looking for a place to happen [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands, does this count as a PWP if it's got crucial character development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadaransmuggler/pseuds/kadaransmuggler
Summary: The Lone Wanderer wants to see the Vegas lights.Courier Six is after the man who shot him.But they stop to take time for themselves, and for each other.





	if i ain't got nothing, i got nothing to hold me back

Hayden Hart finds herself in a bar. It was one of those hole-in-the-wall bars, one that reminded her of the Muddy Rudder in Rivet City, of waking up in Butch Deloria’s rented bed because she’d drank so much she fell asleep on him. It reminded her of what home had come to mean.

The way she figured, she’d be in Vegas soon. A week and a half, if the weather was good and she got lucky. She’d taken to traveling at night- it wasn’t like the Capital Wasteland she called home. The Mojave was too damned hot to walk in the heat of the day, and Hayden was damned tired of walking anyway. She’d been on the road for over a month now, the Capital Wasteland long gone behind her.

                It had been Butch that told her to make that trek, told her she needed to get out and see the world before she let her reputation get to her head. Out here, she was just another weary traveler looking to cool her heels in the heat of the day. She’s sitting smack dab in front of one of the fans, rigged up so it runs on battery power and not the limited electricity of the place. The whole place is full of the din of lazy conversation and the sound of the moonshine still outside.

                She didn’t have any interest in being social, but in between one moment and another, she finds a man on the barstool next to her. She takes a moment to examine him. He’s all cowboy, from the hat he wears to the revolvers at his belt. He’s got that classic get-up on that she’d seen in the movies and a mustache that nobody else could pull off. His hair hangs down to his shoulders, and Hayden thinks she might like to run her fingers through it.

                “Darlin’, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Mind if I buy you a drink?” he asks, enough roguish charm in his eyes that she thinks about the bed she’d rented, behind a door that closed and more importantly, one that locked. He’d look good on that mattress, she decides, or hovering over her on it. It’d be a better way to pass the time than sitting by herself drinking, at any rate.

                “I don’t usually let strangers buy me a drink, but you look good enough I just can’t say no,” she says, giving him a wink. She’d gotten good at this sort of flirting, sitting in the Muddy Rudder next to Butch. It sure as hell beat getting pissed anytime anyone looked twice at her, and Hayden had found that she enjoyed it.

                The man motions to the bartender and a moment later there’s two beers in front of them, warm but not hot. Probably one of the coldest things in the damned desert, but Hayden just didn’t play well with the stifling heat.

                “So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here by yourself?” the man asks as Hayden takes the drink, turning around on her stool to lean against the bar. It made her feel better to have her back up against something solid. Charon had always told her it was a bad move to get her back up against the wall in a fight, that it made it difficult to get out of shit got too bad. Hayden would always counter that it kept assholes from sneaking up on her. After a knife to the side during an open fight with raiders, Charon had reluctantly agreed that her logic had its merits.

                “What does anyone come to this damned desert for? I’m on my way to Vegas,” she says, a faint smile on her face. The old books and holovids in the Vault had talked about Vegas. A city of sin, it said. After the shit Hayden had seen, it sounded like her kind of place. Besides, she wanted to see the Strip lit up at night. Word was that it was a beautiful sight if your definition of beautiful leant itself to neon lights against the night sky.

                “Well, ain’t that a mighty fine coincidence. I’m making my way to Vegas, too. But I’d wager it’s for a very different reason,” he says, and damn but Hayden thinks that stupid drawl of his is sexy. She could think of a dozen things she’d rather be doing with this stranger than sitting here drinking warm beer on a hot day in a crowded and noisy bar.

                “Oh? And what kind of reason might that be?” she asks, swiveling to face him. They’re close, this way, knees bumping together. It’d be easy for Hayden to slip into his lap. Maybe if he looked like he was interested, she would. It was freeing, in a way, being so far from home. Nobody knew who she was. There wasn’t a reputation she might ruin in the Mojave.

                “What a lot of men want. Revenge,” he says, and there’s something cold and dark in his eyes and it definitely stirs something up in the pit of her stomach.

                “Well, there’s nothing sexier than a dark past and a quest for revenge,” she says, innocently, unable to fight back her grin. The man gives her a crooked smile and then his hand is on her knee, drifting up her thigh. Wally had tried that back in the Vault dinner, and Hayden had dumped boiling coffee on his hand. This time, though, she just let her legs spread just a little, enough that he’d know, and laughed at the glint in his eye.

                “Oh, I don’t know about that, little lady. I think you might have that beat by a mile,” he drawls, dragging his words out just a little more, and Hayden thinks she likes where this is going. She puts her beer back on the counter, only half empty, and leans forward until she’s just a little too close to him.

                “Well, cowboy, why don’t you join me in my room and we’ll find out?” she asks, still with that faux-innocent look on her face, and the look the man gives her is all the encouragement she needs.

                She takes his hand in hers and leads him through the crowded bar, weaving around tables until she gets back to her room. The man follows, a half-amused smirk on his face, and Hayden can’t think of anything except how damned good it feels to do something like this.

* * *

                Maverick realizes in the middle of the third kiss that he doesn’t know the woman’s name. He doesn’t have any plans on stopping to ask, though, not when she steps back and pulls that tank top she’s wearing off. It lands somewhere behind him as he steps forward again, pressing open-mouthed kisses on her neck as his hands splay out on the flat of her stomach. He shifts them up until his fingers just barely brush against the hem of her bra, and he knows he’ll have fun taking her apart piece by piece until she’s screaming on the mattress.

                His knee slips between her thighs, and maybe he overestimated her because she starts to rut against it. He pulls back to admire the view, and her cheeks are pink from embarrassment. He laughs, bending his head again until his mouth hovers near her ear. “Darlin’, you look good enough to eat,” he breathes, and she whimpers beneath him. He’d planned on taking his time, on getting her good and worked up before her clothes even came off, but it looks like she’s beat him to it.

                “You’re eager, ain’t ya?” he teases, his fingers working at the buttons on her jeans. She drapes her arms across his shoulders, a grin on her face as she knocks his hat off his head.

                “Maybe you just have that effect on me,” she murmurs before she presses a kiss against his lips. When she drags her tongue across his bottom lip, he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. He could tell from the look in her eye that she wasn’t no dainty wallflower, but damn if she didn’t have an air of innocence to her. The way she acted, this was all new to her.

                She pushes him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He falls backward with enough force to knock the breath from him. Or maybe that’s because she turns around and slides her jeans off, real slow, then shoots him a wink over her shoulder as she stands back up. She stalks forward and Maverick thinks that maybe he’s underestimated her because she crawls on top of him, legs on either side, and it’s the best damn view he’s had in a long damn time.

                “I think you’re a little overdressed,” she purrs, her hand sliding down his chest. The buttons on his vest pop open, and then she drags her hand back up his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as she goes. Quick as can be, he sits up. She lets out a startled sound and then they’re laughing, his arms circling around her waist to hold her steady. Once he’s sure she’s got her balance, he lets go, and she pushes his clothes off his shoulders and slings them across the room.

                Maverick rolls her off of him and stands, but she beats him to the buttons on his jeans. She pops it open slow, leaning down to lave her tongue up his hipbones. He makes a sound like he might die as she pushes his pants off his hips. She pulls back long enough for him to step out of them and gives him a wicked grin. He scoffs, leaning forward and capturing her lips again. She groans as he lays her back down on the bed, her head finding the pillow as his knee slots between her thighs again.

                She’s damp enough that he can feel it, and he chuckles low against her skin as he peppers kisses across her jawbone and down her neck. His fingers slide underneath her bra, now, pinching at her nipples, and the girl makes a sound in the back of her throat that makes him laugh again.

                This was what he needed, after clawing his way back from the dead with two bullets in his head. The headaches didn’t matter so much when she was making such sweet sounds because of him.

                She pushes him back just enough to pull her bra off. He thinks she might have the prettiest tits he’s ever seen, and he takes a moment to just stare in a way that has her shifting beneath him.

                “Like what you see?” she asks, but Maverick doesn’t answer. He just leans down and licks a trail up her neck before kissing his way down it. This time, he makes his way down her collarbone, to the space in between those tits. She whines, her fingers tangling in his hair. He chuckles against her skin and drags his tongue over her nipple. She whines again.

                He spends a few minutes like that, switching from one to the other. The sounds she makes are enough to get him half hard, and Maverick can’t wait to hear what she sounds like with his face buried between her legs. He starts to kiss his way down her stomach and there’s enough coiled tension that he wonders how she hasn’t snapped.

                He drags her panties off with his teeth, and she watches with bated breath and wide eyes. He presses kisses against her inner thighs until she’s whimpering and squirming, and only then does he give her what she wants.

                She’s damn near dripping when he drags his tongue up her slit, swirling it around her clit. Her hips buck, and his hands come up to hold her in place. She whines, long and drawn out, and her hand comes up, so she can put her knuckle between her teeth. If she was that close to screaming, he was going to do whatever it took to drag those sounds out of her.

                His tongue moves lower, circling around her hole before dipping inside, and damn if she isn’t the best thing he’s ever tasted. She’s vocal as she squirms beneath him, unable to do anything but lie there and _take_ what he was giving her.

Maverick hollows his lips around her clit and _sucks_ , and she comes so hard she can’t hold back a strangled scream. He stays down there through the aftershocks, lazily fucking her with his tongue until she pushes him away. He sits back with the smuggest grin he’s ever had on his face.

                “You’re turn, cowboy,” she purrs, and flips them over.

* * *

                Hayden’s legs are still shaky from the orgasm she just had and she’s delightfully sensitive. She tugs his boxers down, realizing only as his cock springs out that she doesn’t know his name. It sends another thrill through her. The last time she’d gotten laid was probably Amata before she’d left the Vault the first time around. God, maybe she should have fooled around with Butch when he’d offered, but maybe then she would have turned down Cowboy if she had.

                She thinks about teasing him like he’d teased her, but Hayden had gotten impatient, so she straddles him again, reaching down to guide him inside her. His cock throbs in her hand, and she can’t hold back a moan when it does. The only teasing she gives him is the agonizingly slow way she slides down, and she doesn’t know if she’s teasing him or tormenting herself.

                She leans down to give him a languid kiss before she starts to move, slow and easy at first. She sits back up, one hand on his chest for better balance, and she doesn’t think anything of the way he rests his hands on her hips until suddenly he’s moving her, up and down, and damn if it isn’t threatening to undo her all over again.

                Sex with Cowboy is different than sex with Amata. Her ex-girlfriend had been all soft touches and sweet kisses. Cowboy here was all tongue and teeth and rough edges. It was intoxicating, or maybe that was the liquor she’d had earlier. She doesn’t know how he manages to take over no matter what they’re doing, but she can’t find it in her to complain. Not when she’s so close to coming again, not when she’s long since given up trying to pretend like he isn’t the only thing moving her up and down on his cock. She plants her elbows on his chest, her fingers curling around his shoulders, and holds on as he fucks her.

                Her second orgasm is slower than her first one, less intense but longer lasting. She doesn’t scream, but it’s a close thing as he slows down, fucking her through it. When it’s too much to bear she rolls off of him, clumsily wrapping her fingers around him and stroking experimentally. A few minutes later, and he comes all over her hand with a shout.

                On impulse, she brings her hand up to her mouth and licks. He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and it doesn’t taste terrible so Hayden licks her hand clean and winks at him before she settles down next to him, one arm slung over his chest and one leg draped over his.

                “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, cowboy,” she murmurs, breathless, as she traces patterns onto his chest with her fingers.

                “Call me Maverick, pretty girl,” he tells her, voice rumbling in his chest. He leans over the edge of the bed and fumbles for his jeans, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He pulls her back against his side as he lights it, sitting the lighter firmly on the nightstand.

                “Well, Maverick, you can call me Hayden,” she teases, reaching up to adjust her glasses. She remembers the first time when Jonas had put them on her face, tongue between his teeth as he tried to make sure they fit perfect. The poor bastard had probably never expected that the glasses would survive through countless gunfights.

                “I’ll break your heart, Hayden,” he tells her, that roguish charm back in his eyes. But part of the reason Hayden had wanted him in the first place because he didn’t look like the type to stay. After Amata, Hayden didn’t have any interest in someone staying.

                “Oh, I don’t know about that, Maverick. I’m kind of a big deal back in the Capital Wasteland,” she says, and damn if she hadn’t walked through the whole night. It’d be easy to fall asleep here, with him. She wondered if she’d wake up to find him gone.

                “You should be a big deal wherever you go, sweetheart,” he tells her, snuffing out the cigarette on the bedside table. His thumb rubs idle circles on her arm, and for the first time since she’s left the Vault, Hayden’s basking in the touch of another person.

                “They call me the Lone Wanderer. I’m kind of the reason that Project Purity was a success,” she says, and she’s definitely bragging but damn there’s something in her that wants to impress this drifter she’ll never see again.

                “Well, I guess that might explain why you was sitting in there all by your lonesome,” he says, chuckling. Hayden snorts, and they fall into silence then. Minutes later her eyes are drifting shut and she’s asleep.

* * *

                Hayden wakes up hours later, Maverick a comforting weight on top of her. She can see a dust storm outside through the cracks in the window, and she knows this’ll be a setback getting to Vegas. But she’s got all the time in the world and all the caps she needs to keep the room paid up, so she tucks her head back under Maverick’s chin and drifts off again.

* * *

                The storm lasts for days. It ain’t nothing Maverick ain’t seen before, but it’s best to stay put and let it blow over. There’s plenty of storms that have caught him out in the open desert, and Hayden doesn’t make a move to put her clothes back on, so he’ll stay right where he is.

                They spend those days together, the frantic fucking giving way to lazy touches and soft kisses. It’s painfully domestic for a man who’s never called a place home.

                He wakes up one day to find that the storm’s broke and Hayden’s gone, a note on the pillow next to him. He’d expected a lot of things, but he hadn’t expected this hollow ache in his chest.

                What was it he had told her? That he’d break her heart? Seems like she was the heartbreaker between the two of them, and Maverick doesn’t know what to do. He’d made it a point never to stay longer than one night with the same person, to never sleep in the same bed.

                But Hayden had been warm and soft, and she’d been sound asleep against him, and he hadn’t been able to make himself get up.

                He stays until night falls and then he slips out of the bar.

                He’s got a meeting, after all, with the man who’d put two bullets in his head. It was time he returned the favor.


End file.
